Seasons
by elan0rjoy
Summary: A grouping of Jessa one-shots, drabbles, and fluff I've posted together without following a particular timeline. Part 6: Tumblr prompt: Tessa and Jem, fake married got turned into a modern!College AU.
1. Seasons

The seasons pass and with each of them, we learn snippets of what transpired between _Clockwork Prince_ and _Clockwork Princess_.

* * *

**Seasons**

_"I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days -_

_three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain." _

-John Keats

It was midsummer and the sun was brilliant and the birds were singing and the world had become more colorful, more beautiful, more _alive_ and they were engaged and he was happier than he could have possibly imagined and she was at his side and he felt, for the first time, that life was worth really _living_, not just maintaining.

It was midsummer and it was raining and humid and he was sick and she was scared and she tried to hide it from him and he couldn't stand the thought of her worrying about him or seeing him so weak and pathetic and he made a choice and decided that he wouldn't regret it.

It was midsummer and the Thames sparkled in the light of the sun and he had taken more of his drug in one week than he'd ever done before and it didn't matter because he was strong and fast and brilliant and so _impossibly_ in love.

It was midsummer and he'd committed to courting her properly and the Clave was taking its sweet time in deliberating whether or not they would be allowed to marry and she was afraid for their future and he was not because there was no future for him that did not have her in it, the Clave be damned.

It was midsummer and her hair curled in the heat and the humidity and her skin glowed and her eyes sparkled and one day, when walking in the park, she caught a bit of sun and now her nose was lightly freckled and it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen and he had to stop himself from kissing the tip of her nose every time she walked into the room.

It was summer's end and he found her crying in the stables and when he asked her why, she told him it was because she was barren and she wanted more than anything to give him a son and he'd held her and hadn't been able to say anything for a long time because he knew that if they could have a child, at least she wouldn't be alone when he was gone, and finally he reminded her that her love for him was the most beautiful gift in the world and that there wasn't anything else that she could give him that could possibly be more precious to him.

It was summer's end and the stars were bright in the night sky and she was warm in his arms and her lips were soft on his and where there had been fire in his veins from the fever, there was now fire in his veins from where Tessa's fingers brushed against the skin of his neck and lightening shooting from his fingertips where he could feel the shape of her body beneath them.

It was summer's end and he was strong and happy and the only thing wrong in the whole world is the fact that his _yin fen _supply had depleted drastically in the last month and he was afraid to ask Will to purchase more, lest his _parabatai_ discover the truth that it was not solely the power of Tessa's love that made him well.

It was summer's end and the night were getting colder and and they were next to each other and she was chilly and he put his arm around her and he told himself, not for the first time, that they desperately needed a chaperone and then her cold lips met his, the first kiss she'd ever initiated, and he lost the ability to think coherently.

It was autumn and the leaves were changing and they were planning a wedding at Christmas and he introduced her to green tea from China and they sipped it from tiny painted cups at an al fresco tea shop and he could tell she didn't like it, though she kept drinking it and he loved her because he knew it was for his sake.

It was autumn and she was wearing gear and her eyes were bluer because of the black and he was helping her learn to throw a knife and it brought him back to his first day at the London Institute and even though Tessa was nothing like Will, he couldn't help but be comforted by the fact that when he was gone, the two people he loved most in this world would at least be able to throw a knife to protect themselves.

It was autumn and he barely had any _yin fen_ left and he would have to tell Will soon and he did not know how he could possibly explain to his soul's other half that he was accepting the acceleration of his death, and their parting, in order to be all that he could be for Tessa.

It was autumn and she was radiant in her wedding gown and spectacular in the face of the worm Benedict Lightwood had become and he loved her even more fiercely for wanting to fight and for her level-headedness compared to Tatiana's screaming, but when Will ordered her out of harm's way, he could not help but be relieved that she, at least, would be safe from the demon-worm.

It was autumn and the moon was full and he was playing his violin, trying to work out the way he had fallen in love with her into music and none of it sounded right because she was perfection and his music, though lovely enough in its own right, could never compete with how lovely her face was when she smiled.

It was autumn and she was willing to risk her life for his and he was not willing to allow her to do so and Will's hand was burnt and something had to change.

It was autumn and they were getting married the next day and the world, which had been so twisted and wrong that day before, was now glorious and rich and he had never been happier than he was when he looked at her face.

It was autumn and the Institute had been attacked and Tessa had been kidnapped and he had run and run, but it had done no good, for he was injured and she was gone and had taken with her his will to live.


	2. Pretense

Jem contemplates the ways in which pretending to be engaged to Tessa for a day have impacted him.

* * *

**Pretense**

_Straightway I was 'ware, _

_So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move_

_Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;_

_And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,–_

_"Guess now who holds thee!"–"Death," I said, But, there,_

_The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love."_

_-_Elizabeth Browning

Laying in an unfamiliar bed, trying to sleep without the city's lullaby, Jem considered the ways in which feigning to be Tessa's fiance have taken him completely and utterly off-guard:

Helping her down from the carriage and holding her hand and waist for a few seconds longer than necessary, and enjoying it far more than a person playing a role really ought.

Murmuring in her ear, so close that he can smell the combination of lavender soap she washes her hair with and watching the gooseflesh raise on her neck where his breath caressed her skin.

Being the recipient of her smile and reply spoken so softly that his ears alone heard it and even though he wasn't unused to words spoken only so he could hear (that was how Will communicated with him three-quarters of the time), his heart skipped a beat.

Threading her hand through his arm and walking with her next to him; her forehead only just reaching the bottom of his chin, and wondering briefly what it would be like to kiss that forehead.

Allowing Will to make introductions and listening to the words "she is the betrothed of Carstairs here" with a shocking amount of pleasure coursing through his veins.

Sitting next to her at dinner, so close that he could've reached for her hand beneath the table if he so desired.

Realizing how much it was that he desired to reach out and take her hand beneath the table and having to physically restrain himself from doing so.

Reaching out to stop her from entering the spoils room, his desire to protect her from the gruesome contents outweighing his desire not to hurt her as he tried to drag her backwards.

Catching her as she swooned at the sight of a warlock skull, worry for her blooming from somewhere within the very core of himself and startling him.

Cradling her against his chest while he made excuses to Starkweather: "My poor fiance's still very new to the Shadowhunter world. She's never even seen spoils before. I should have known better, she can't stand blood. She's incredibly delicate."

Clasping her even closer and stroking her hair as she clung to him, his heart nearly bursting with tenderness as she nuzzled her face into his chest and whimpered so softly that only he could hear it.

Feeling bereft when the maidservants took her from his arms and led her away, shocking himself with the intensity of the feelings that rose up in his chest as she gazed back at him over the shoulders of the maidservants, her grey eyes luminous in her pale face.

Seeing that pale face behind his eyelids as he tried to fall asleep, feeling the phantom of her warmth next to his heart, smelling the ghost of lavender water in the air, his heart bursting with feelings he'd never allowed himself to feel and smiling like an idiot because his plan had worked so beautifully.

The final thing he contemplated, just before sleep took him completely, was the notion that he had spent the whole day pretending to be her fiance, to love and adore and protect her, and hadn't even once actually been an act on his part.


	3. Roadtrip 1

Wherein Jem and Tessa visit the oldest gas station in the US, suffer the effects of energy drinks, and argue (goodnaturedly) over music choices.

* * *

**The Roadtrip: Part 1 **

_"__This was really the way my whole road experience began, _

_and the things that were to come are too fantastic not to tell._"

-Jack Kerouac

"It's not really safe for you to be sitting like that."

"I'm still wearing my seatbelt." Tessa replied without looking up from her book. "Besides, I trust you not to wreck the car."

Jem harrumphed in good natured annoyance and Tessa glanced up at him from over the top of her book. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his hands firmly affixed to the 10 and 2 o'clock positions on the steering wheel. Her bare feet were in his lap and she could feel the tension in his body. Jem had taken to driving well, but this was his first experience on the interstate and he was taking it _very_ seriously. She was about to tell him to relax a little when she caught a glimpse of a sign on the side of the road.

"Oh! Take the exit up here!"

"But why?"

"The oldest gas station in the U.S.!"

"We just got gas in Harrisburg."

Tessa was already on her iPhone. "Altoona has the oldest roller coaster in the U.S. too! Please can we go?"

"It's an hour out of the way," he protested, even as he was changing lanes. Her insatiable curiosity is one of the things he loves most about her. Besides, he has never ridden a roller coaster.

* * *

"Jem?" She was curled into his side, her head on his chest, her fingers tracing lightly over his ribs, giving him goosebumps.

"Hmm?"

"I can't sleep."

"That would be the energy drinks,"he said with his eyes still closed. He feels more than hears her sigh against his skin and smiles. "I can't sleep either, Tess."

"We shouldn't have bought them." Her voice is pouty and adorable and he can't help but stroke her hair, the need to caress her nearly overwhelming his senses.

"We lost time in Cleveland," he says, recalling the hours they'd spent at the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame. "We _both_ thought it would be a good idea to drive all night."

"Energy drinks," her voice is disdainful, "what an idea..."

Though he doesn't voice it, he agrees wholeheartedly. His blood is still racing through his veins, making his toes wiggle of their own accord, his brain is still whirling through a hundred thoughts a minute. He has never felt so tired and so _awake_ at the same time. He wonders, vaguely, if he'll have a heart attack. Energy runes had never felt like this. Even lifting a hand to stroke her hair makes him feel jumpy, makes him want to run until his legs fall off. _What an idea indeed._

"Never again?" she asks.

"Never, _ever_ again," he replies.

* * *

Tessa stared at the radio. How could a minute take so long? If she didn't know that runes didn't work on most technology, she would have sworn Jem had magicked time into moving more slowly.

Jem, meanwhile, was oblvious to her, lost to the music as he sang along with Metallica. Ever since they'd visited the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame, he'd been obsessed with hard rock. It wasn't that she didn't like to hear him sing. On the contrary, it was surprising and delightful when he sang with the radio. It wasn't even that she had a strong dislike of hard rock. But he had been in control of the radio for the last hour and she was about to lose her mind.

_3:30._

Before he realized what had happened, she'd switched to one of her Pandora stations and Jack Johnson's voice filled the car. Jem, who had been in the middle of the chorus, whipped his head towards her in surprise.

"It's my turn," she says as explanation.

"But the song was only half through!"

"But I've been listening to it for the last hour."

"You introduced me to Metallica! You _like_ Metallica."

She didn't bother to respond. She _had_ introduced him to Metallica, and, to be honest, she'd didn't have much of a problem with Metallica. But Jem hadn't added any variety to his Metallica station and she'd heard the same songs at least three times every time it was his turn to pick the music.

"It'll still be there when it's your turn again," she says as sweetly as she can manage.

He purses his lips and smiles, wondering how much she'll like it when he opts for Avenged Sevenfold and Five Finger Death Punch when it's his next turn.


	4. Origins of a Habitual Affectionate Gestu

How the pinky hooking gesture came to be. Takes place after _Clockwork Prince._

* * *

_"Jem, beside Tessam hooked his smallest finger through hers. _

_It was a habitual affectionate gesture,one that Tessa had grown used to over the past months,_

_ enough that she sometimes put out her hand without thinking, when he was standing by her." _

They all had opted to attend the next regular Clave meeting, although it was something that was generally only attended by Charlotte and Henry, given that, as Will put it, "the entire meeting was populated by pompous political ninnies." Charlotte had laughed aloud when he'd said it in the carriage, a strange experience for everyone in attendance, for they were all used to Charlotte chastising Will. When she'd regained enough composure to attempt to correct his behavior, he'd given her a winning smile and apologized, she'd very nearly choked on her words. It was another glimpse of the real Will, the one who loved and needed love in return and allowed himself to show it and the familial-type exchange had nearly brought Charlotte to tears.

But, pompous politicians or not, the entirity of the inhabitants of the London Institute had opted to go with them and had lined the front row of the chambers a full thirty minutes before the meeting was actually due to begin. Charlotte had said it was supposed to be a short meeting. There was no new news of Mortmain and Cecily's request to become a Shadowhunter had been a mere matter of paperwork. She didn't expect there to be many in attendance and hoped that it would be a good time for Jem to request permission to marry Tessa without causing too much of a ruckus.

Tessa, however, had only ever been to one Clave meeting before, and, to her eyes, there were a significant number of Shadowhunters in attendance. Not only that, but more had kept coming in as the meeting progressed. Every time the door opened, she sat up a little straighter, ground her teeth a little harder. Jem noticed her nerves from the start but, just as he was considering sweeping her into the Poet's Corner to try to calm her down, the Consul called the meeting to order.

Not being able to do anything else, he'd quickly taken her hand and slipped it into the near nonexistent space between them, linking only their littlest fingers together. To the casual observer, they weren't touching except where the closeness of the front row caused her shoulder to brush his arm. He gave her finger a squeeze, trying to convey his love for her into the small gesture as he stared straight ahead.

_I love you, Tessa. I will marry you no matter what. You are my everything and if they tell me no, I am willing to leave them all for you._

The intensity of the thoughts caught him off guard. He had always known he loved her, but he'd never thought of leaving the Shadowhunter world for her. He'd never even considered the matter long enough to warrant that particular train of thought. There were no laws about a Shadowhunter marrying whatever she was; the Clave would see the reason, and that he loved her, that he was dying anyway and they would be allowed to wed, the end. That had always been his reasoning. But now that he has thought these things, he cannot unthink them. He was not eighteen yet, he could still chose to leave them all if he wanted. And he would, if it meant being with her. He would do anything if it meant being with her.

She didn't look at him either, but he saw the tension drain from her shoulders and felt her relax against him as his finger closed around hers. Once again, she had read his mind. It is as if they are already one. The unspoken communication, the assurance of his love, has calmed her frazzled nerves and provided her with confidence. He sees it in now in her posture, the tilt of her chin, and a sudden flash of fierceness in her eyes. If nothing else, they love each other and that will never be taken away from them, the Clave be damned.


	5. Roadtrip 2

_In which there is a questionable motel and car games that involve getting naked. Rating moved up to T for this chapter._

* * *

"Tess, I know your books say that roadtrips are about adventure and the great unknown, but this is _seriously_ a questionable motel."

She purses her lips and raises one eyebrow, her only show of agreement to his skepticism. It is adorable to watch, but he is also tired and hungry and there is, literally, nothing for miles except this hotel-gas-station-bar and it looks as if a particularly strong breeze might blow the whole thing away. It is nearly two in the morning and now that they are standing in front of it now and he is seriously considering sleeping in the car rather than run the risk of contracting fleas.

She smiles, the sun breaking through the clouds. "I'm sure you're stayed in _far_ worse places than this. Being _parabatai _to Will surely left you in some questionable situations."

"More than I care to admit," he agrees. "We could drive for a few more hours. There's bound to be a Hampton Inn _somewhere_ in Iowa."

"Boring," she retorts, the smile on her face growing. "You can't have a real road trip experience without staying in questionable motels, eating impossibly greasy food, stopping at ridiculous tourist attractions, and buying t-shirts in every state."

"Oh?" He is laughing at her, but she is laughing too, both of them giddy from lack of sleep and the remnants of a Sour Patch Kids-induced buzz. "I suppose that means we'll be wearing matching t-shirts for the next ten years then."

"At least."

She grabs her duffle bag from the trunk and throws him his bag. Her arm is good, but her aim is way off, and he has to lunge to catch it. When he does, his foot lands in a pothole and he has to somersault in order to keep from landing on his face. He lands, crouched, in the small patch of grass just in front of the motel's main door, giving him a clear line of sight into the lobby.

"Tess?" She is frozen next to the car, her eyes wide, one hand clapped over her mouth.

"Yes?" she squeaks, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Tess, get in the car now." Incredibly, she automatically obeys. Years of Shadowhunting, he supposes, have taught her the appropriate time and place for asking questions and he is incredibly grateful. He runs on catlike feet to the car and tosses his duffle in the back seat as she peels out of the parking lot at breathtaking speed. When there are several miles between them and the motel, she lets off the gas and ventures to look at him.

"What did you see?" she asks, "I've never heard you talk like that."

He grimaces, grateful for the darkness and for the fact that she is the one driving.

"A rat."

She glances at him, her eyebrows so high he think they might go past her hairline.

"A rat?"

"Well, now that I think about it, it might have been a cat…"

She slams on the breaks, in the middle of the interstate, and throws the car into park before flinging her door open and getting out. Jem, shocked, gets out after her, meeting her halfway around the car.

"Tessa, what are you doing?"

"I," she says, taking his shoulder and pushing him towards the driver's side, "am sleeping. You are driving until you find a decent hotel."

* * *

"Padiddle!"

It is Jem, shouting with glee while Tessa groans. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see what will happen next. She's wearing precious little clothing already, her sweater (lost to a VW Bug), her jeans (lost to a beat up Bronco), and her bra (lost to a green semi) already discarded and on the floorboards. Her long legs are crossed beneath her and her shirt's been pulled low over her hips in an effort to hide her state of undress from the very few cars that are driving through Iowa this late at night.

She catches him looking at her and growls something unintelligible when she sees his giant smile. She is eyeballing her own body, searching for anything _other_ than her shirt or panties to take off. Reluctantly, she grips the hem of her shirt and raises her arms. When he can just barely glimpse the underside of her breast, she stops, drops the shirt, and reaches up into her hair, pulling the clip holding it up free and tossing it on the floor. Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in a waterfall lavender-scented curls and he groans in (partially) mock disappointment. She grins wickedly and sits back against the seat in contentment.

"I can't help it, you know," he says after a few minutes, reaching over to trace designs on her thigh with his free hand. "It's operant conditioning: I say 'padiddle' and you take off your clothes. Of _course_ I'm better at it than you are. I have a better incentive than you."

"I've been trying to get your shirt off of you for the last two hours, don't tell me I don't have a good enough incentive," she replies, allowing her hand to run up his arm to his shoulder and back down, pushing his hand subtly higher on her leg. He knows what she's trying to do and doesn't care a bit. He just wants to tease for a little bit longer. His fingers are leaving goosebumps in their wake and the knowledge that he can affect her like this is intoxicating.

And then, a miracle happened. A caravan of used cars coming towards them, likely on their way to auction, a several with burnt out headlights. Before Tessa realizes what's happening, he's shouting again in victory:

"Padiddle, padiddle, padiddle!"

He can practically hear her mouth drop open. "But _Jem-_"

"I don't care." He sounds like a little boy on Christmas morning. "Strip, Gray."


	6. Fake Married

**Tumblr Prompt: Fake Married**

* * *

"You don't have to do this. I mean, I can talk to her by myself."

Jem looked down at Tessa's pinched, pale face and plastered on a smile that he hoped looked self-assured and confident. He didn't feel self-assured or confident, but he wanted to be for her sake.

"It's okay. In and out and you're taken care of for grad school and as soon as you're done, we file for divorce and everything goes back to normal," he said. "Just don't take more than two years to finish you thesis, okay?"

He didn't mean it. He'd stay married to Tessa if it took her five years to finish her thesis and then decided to get her doctrate. When she smiled up at him, it was only a little uncertain and his heart fluttered. "It's the least I can do."

Tax forms were a funny thing, he thought. So were financial aid forms. In some states, they blended together into a benevolent benefactor willing to bestow those with the proper combinations of numbers thousands of dollars, allowing a lucky student to attend classes for a full year without worrying about financial woes. In other states, combining taxes and financial aid was the monetary equivilant of a death knell in one's academic dreams. And in Tessa's case, the difference between academic euphoria and financial dispare lay in whether or not she was married.

They'd been best friends since middle school, when they'd found out they were both orphans and taken care of each other like family. Even though they'd spent four years at different colleges, they hadn't grown apart. In fact, binge watching every season of Lost on Netflix together while Facetiming and encouraging each other through their midterms and final papers and spending Christmas breaks together in their hometown and road tripping to visit each other's schools during spring break had actually reinforced their bond. She'd slept in his bed wearing his t-shirts and he'd used her toothbrush for a week and he'd helped her study for the GRE and she'd listened to him practice piece after piece as he auditioned for orchestras.

When they'd both ended up in New York after graduation, him to play for Orchestra of St. Luke's and her to pursue and advanced degree in Victorian lit at Columbia, it had been natural for them to move in together. Their apartment wasn't too small, but it was definitely cozy. Over the summer, Jem had gotten used to her constant presence in his life. He got used to making her breakfast while she got ready for work at the NYPL branch closest to their apartment. He got used to her humming bits of whatever piece he'd been practicing most recently while she washed dishes and tripping over her stacks of books.

When he'd come home from orchestra practice to find her crying on their small blue couch, when he'd found out that she hadn't gotten the scholarship she'd been counting on, when he'd done the math and discovered that their tax bracket would change enough if they were married to allow her to qualify for more financial aid, he'd been the one who brought up the idea that they should get married rather than see her leave.

It had been absurdly easy to go into a courthouse and stand in front of a judge to sign the papers. She'd worn a yellow dress and a pink flower in her hair and when the judge said they were man and wife they'd shared a chaste kiss that had lit him on fire. That night they went out for Indian food and gotten a little drunk on cheap wine and ended up passing out in the same bed. He'd woke up with her head on his chest and his fingers tangled in her hair.

The three hours at the Social Security office had been a little more taxing for both of them, but they'd gotten through it, trying to act like newlyweds who'd only been able to afford a trip to Niagra Falls for a honeymoon while they'd shown the marriage liscense to the woman behind the glass. Tessa hadn't changed her last name, so her driver's liscense hadn't been changed and they hadn't told what was left of their families. Now they just had to speak with her financial advisor at Columbia and she'd be set for the year.

He took her hand and tried to ignore how the warmth of his skin made his skin tingle.

"Let's get this over with."


End file.
